Porcelain Hearts
by Vasaris the Fuzzy Dragon
Summary: He holds the hearts of those most dear to him... or Valentine's Voldemort style. Darkfic. Dubious Con, kinda. VoldemortBellatrix mentioned.


Author: Vasaris, the Fuzzy Dragon

Title: Porcelain Hearts

Pairing(s): Voldemort/Bellatrix mentioned

Characters: Voldemort, Bellatrix, Snape

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Dubious Con. Well, sorta. And it isn't exactly explicit

Porcelain Hearts

He has a row of little clay hearts that are filled with gentle emotions. All the love they represent resides in these fragile containers, inaccessible to the ones who gave them to him in sweet devotion.

Every time he opens the box he smiles at the wonder of it, at the wave of sweet feeling that overcomes him. This, he thinks, is power.

Sometimes, he releases the charms that hold the hearts in check. Bellatrix writhes in agonies of regret when he allows her heart and conscience to return to her. She pants in horror and ecstasy as he lays her down and partakes of the feast that resides in her flesh. He enjoys both her revulsion and her orgasm as her body shudders around him, and he laughs when she cries out her completion.

She is beautiful when she cries.

Still, she is more useful when there is a void where her heart should be and it is never hard to bind her emotions back into their worn clay vessel. When he is done, her full lips twist in self-mockery and derision. She hates to be reminded of her weaker self and is always grateful when he locks that part of her away.

Her husky voice asking if there is any way she can thank him is always arousing and the mouth it issues from is very talented.

Sometimes he wonders if he should lock away the jealousies his followers feel, but does not want to mar the golden sweetness that flows to him from the hearts that mark is people as his. McNair's jealousy of young Malfoy is unwarranted and inconvenient, particularly as he has not yet captured the boy's heart.

It must, after all, be a voluntary donation. In another time, in other circumstances, they are lover's tokens, a sign of marriage and devotion that the Wizarding World has all but abandoned for newer, less dangerous exchanges. It is an absolute commitment and a terrible risk to give someone your heart. A simple flick of a finger can shatter the fine porcelain, leaving the giver literally bereft of love and filled with aching despair.

In his hands, though, the hearts are filled with all the good things that make Gryffindors so weak. Love and conscience are trapped within them so that his followers can do what he asks of them with no regret. Young Malfoy is wracked with pain over what he was asked to do and Voldemort is not surprised. The boy enjoys the thought of torturing and killing but has not been hardened in any way.

McNair taunts the boy every chance he gets and pale eyes are beginning to flare with anger.

"Mr. Malfoy," he says to the seething boy when McNair takes a parting shot. "You seem to have a little problem. I believe I can help you with it."

"My lord, your potion."

Elegant hands pass him a cup filled with fragrant, grey-green liquid. He smiles at Severus, his most successful tool. As a young man, Severus had lain prostrate before him, offering up a heart of clay and eternal devotion. With his acceptance the young man's squeamishness had faded and his research and experimentation within the Dark Arts and grown apace. Oh, how glorious those few years had been, with Severus as amoral as a viper and twice as vicious. Others had seen the change and the approval it wrought and offered their hearts as well.

Oh, the heady power of that!

"Thank you, Severus."

The man bowed, leaving as silently as he'd come.

It had been a wise thing, giving Severus his emotions for those long, absent years. All the better to deceive that old fool into trusting him. When he'd re-bound Severus' guilt and love and loyalty, the true Death Eater had returned with a wicked smile. Dumbledore never guessed, not even when faced with the rage and hatred Severus had nurtured instead of love.

He wonders, rubbing his fingers over the newest piece of porcelain, what Harry Potter will think of the new Draco Malfoy who has locked his softness away in smooth piece of fired clay. Not that it matters, as victory is inevitable.

Smiling, Voldemort added Draco's heart to his collection.


End file.
